Blog Dis

Go on, hate me.
Hate me for my lacerating tongue,
my dirty mouth,
spewing vulgar words.

Tell me I am crass and boorish,
and I might be prone to say,
with a look of dismay,
that I am, that I am.

Doesn’t he love it, though?
I should think, with a wink,
getting his horn blown,
in the morning,

is by far his preferred way to go.
He’s such a pussycat, after that.
He cares less about my filthy talk,
and lascivious ways.

Go on, go ahead,
and plunder me.
Tear off my clothes
and have your way.

I'm willing to commit,
the perfect crime with you,
any place, any time.
Bless you, for being mine.

COPYRIGHT © Patricia K McCarthy